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GOD'S PLACES
I said, "I am so tired of all the old tired faces
In the crowded places,
I tire of all the weary steps that cross and beat
Down the long swift street:"
I said, "I will return into my own still room,
Thick with peace and gloom."
In the crowded places,
I tire of all the weary steps that cross and beat
Down the long swift street:"
I said, "I will return into my own still room,
Thick with peace and gloom."
I said, "I will summon up the still bright streams
Of my trooping dreams,
Whose faces are as weariless and calm and young
As a bird-note sung,
Who drift along with sunset-colored robes outblowing,
Of all need unknowing."
Of my trooping dreams,
Whose faces are as weariless and calm and young
As a bird-note sung,
Who drift along with sunset-colored robes outblowing,
Of all need unknowing."
And then . . . the sun shone cloudless, and the wind blew fleet
Down the long swift street
And through the windowed canyon's end the sky's sweet blue
Shone unwearied through,
And I said, "But I must stay, for see, my brothers' faces
Here in God's own places!"
Down the long swift street
And through the windowed canyon's end the sky's sweet blue
Shone unwearied through,
And I said, "But I must stay, for see, my brothers' faces
Here in God's own places!"
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